Speak
by Color With Marker
Summary: We have all heard that word whenever the Bohos screened a call. This is the story behind it.


Maureen and Roger sat on the floor around a turned over box, staring at their new answering machine they'd bought. At first, they both thought they could survive without one. But what if Mark called and neither of them happened to be home? They've only talked a handful of times ever since the trio had parted. Until Mark graduated from Brown, Maureen and Roger were alone in the loft. They didn't hate the place, but the vast empty space that they didn't have enough junk to fill was getting to their heads. Their laughter was pointless without the third voice to join it. Without Mark, they were nearly dying of boredom. It was Roger who finally suggested the machine, so they would at least be able to hear Mark's voice when the time came.

Now the remaining problem was picking the right message.

"I've got one!" Maureen cried after she and Roger had thrown out dozens of thoughts, none of which the other would agree with.

"What?" Roger asked.

Maureen cleared her throat before speaking, in a low, seductive whisper, "_Hey, babe. We're not here, but leave a message, and maybe your number too if you're looking for a good time._"

"Yeah, and if some leather daddy comes up here and asks for me, I'll be the first to strangle you," the songwriter snorted. "Seriously, though, we need a good message. Why can't it be simple?"

"Because it needs pizzazz!" Maureen jumped to her feet and waved her arms. "Flashy! Spunky!"

"I'm not you, Mo."

"You would be so much fun if you were."

"Bitch."

"Shithead."

"Slut."

"Fine, how about we do both?" Maureen suggested, before quickly adding, "Dick."

"How can we do that?" Roger asked.

"You pick something short, sweet, simple, whatever, and I'll think of a way to make it work so that I'll be able to tolerate it."

Roger groaned and leaned back against the metal table they'd found in an alley the first month they'd arrive here. "Why can't we just tell them to speak and leave it at that."

"That's it!" the diva exclaimed.

"What's it?"

"Speak." Maureen slowly sat down and smiled. "Speak. That can definitely work."

Roger raised an eyebrow. "What're you thinking, Mo?"

"Nothing bad. We'll just make the word something catchy." Maureen hummed a few different notes to herself before finding one that she was satisfied with. "Alright, we'll hold it for a few seconds and leave it at that."

"Fine." At this point, Roger didn't feel like coming up with something else. If it made Maureen happy, then what the hell, he might as well go with it.

"On three." Maureen mouthed out the numbers before pressing the button to record their message. The two teens spoke/sang the word together in perfect harmony:

"_Speeeeaaaak_!"

* * *

The next day, while eating breakfast, the phone rang. Instead of rushing to answer it, the two Bohos sat on the floor and slurping Captain Crunch while waiting to see what the caller would say.

"_Speeeeaaaak_!"

"_Really? I don't even know which one of you would come up with that. It's got both of your names written all over it. Anyway, I have the day off, so I thought I'd call..._"

Maureen was pleased with Mark's reaction and picked up the phone. "Hey Marky! Don't you love what I came up with?"

Roger shook his head and went back to eating his soggy cereal.

* * *

Two years later, Mark sat on the "new" couch (stolen from the apartment of an evicted neighbor during the middle of the night last month by Maureen and Roger) between two strangers to his friends, Collins and Benny. The two men looked a bit uncomfortable, but they were trying their hardest to adapt to the mess. Their belongings were spread out in the once-empty spaces.

"Alright, who sleeps where?" Roger asked. "There's only one small room available here, and Mo and I are both in the other room on a king-sized mattress, so-"

"Who cares?" Maureen interrupted. "We have to record a new message."

Roger clapped his hands together. "Right!"

"Message?" Benny asked.

"Right!" Maureen stood up and dragged over the answering machine. "We record a message so everyone who calls knows who lives here when they leave a message."

"At least, for Marky's mommy's sake," Roger teased. He reached over and pinched Mark's cheek a bit roughly. The filmmaker swatted his best friend's hand away.

"So what's the message?" Collins asked.

"We all say 'speak' for a really long time."

"That's it?"

"Trust me, I was the first one to hear it, that's it," Mark said.

"Listen," Maureen said. She pressed the play button and let the sound of her and Roger's voices be heard. Collins and Benny nodded, okay with the message.

"I always knew she'd never let this up," Roger muttered to himself when the group huddled around the answering machine. Maureen counted to three before pressing the recording button.

"_Speeeeaaaak_!"

* * *

"Aw, Roggie's girlfriend is moving in with us," Maureen gushed at Roger, hugging him and toying with his gelled hair. She then wiped off the excess that came off on her hands on the leg of her jeans.

"Don't start, Mo," he warned.

"Jeez Roger, you use too much of that stuff," Maureen complained.

"He uses more hair gel and eyeliner than you and April put together," Mark teased.

"It's just in case a cute guy comes around. He wouldn't want to be caught dead without his products on," Collins added.

"And if any guy is interested in me, I'll send him your way," Roger retorted, flipping the boys the finger and he grabbed April's duffel bag. He carelessly threw it in his room. Maureen ran over to the answering machine and posed to press the recording button.

"Here we go again," Mark said. Collins called for Benny. Roger quickly explained what April was supposed to do before Benny emerged from the bedroom. The six waited for Maureen to start recording before recording the new message:

"_Speeeeaaaak_!"

* * *

"Should we?" April asked.

"It'll feel wrong, you know, without him," Maureen said, wringing her hands together.

"If we do, it'll make this official," Mark added.

"Don't remind me, Pookie."

"We have to, you guys," Roger said.

"If we don't record the new message, no one will remember that Collins is at MIT," Benny reminded them. "So let's just get this over with. Maureen, do the honors." Maureen nodded and regretfully counted to three and pressed the button.

"_Speeeeaaaak_!"

* * *

"And fuck off!" Roger shouted before slamming the door in Benny's face. He stalked over to the couch and sat down. April slid onto his lap and ran her fingers through his newly bleached hair to calm him down. For some odd reason, it always worked.

"It's not our faults he met the wrong girl," she coaxed.

"No, it's Mark's."

"Mine?" Mark asked. "Why?"

"Because your dumb ass brought him here two years ago, and look what the fuck happened!" Roger roared.

"It's not _my_ fault you were a dick to him since day one!"

"How about I kick you ass so hard-"

"GUYS!" Maureen shouted. The boys stopped their argument momentarily to look at the diva, who stood by the metal chair and pointed at the answering machine. "We might as well let everyone know the yuppie sold his soul to a blonde devil." Mark, Roger, and April and gathered next to her and recorded the new message:

"_Speeeeaaaak_!"

* * *

Maureen sat on the couch, curled up in a ball. This couldn't have happened. No way. Not now. Not April. She was so happy, so lively, so beautiful... how could this have happened? Of course, no one confronted April about her heroin use. The week after Mark and Maureen tried convincing Roger to quit - something that ended with a heated and near-violent confrontation between the boys - they'd found her dead, her wrists slit, lying in the bathtub motionless. She couldn't get that image out of her head. One month had passed, and she still felt haunted.

She heard footsteps and didn't look up. A hand was on her shoulder. She looked up to see not Mark, but Roger, staring at her with blank eyes.

"It's late," she said. "You should go back to sleep."

"The machine," Roger told her.

"The what?"

"The answering machine."

"What about it?"

"It's message. We need to change it."

Maureen sat up and stared at her friend. "Are you sure?"

Roger nodded. "We need to let people know that she's gone now. The last thing we need it to have someone call and cry when they hear her voice."

In a way, it made sense. Maureen didn't mention closure or anything, just in case it provoked the already-tense Roger. She knew that if he grew violent when Mark wasn't around that there was a very good chance he'd attack her without any second thoughts. Better safe than sorry. "I'll go get Marky," she said quietly. She woke up Mark and told him to join them. The three sat in a triangle around the machine, and this time, Roger was the one who pressed the button.

"_Speeeeaaaak_!"

* * *

"Joanne," Mark growled. "A lawyer." He punched the wall. "A fucking lawyer named Joanne." Seconds later, he let out a delayed yelp and cradled his hand to his chest.

Roger rolled his eyes and went back to playing guitar. It'd been a few says since Maureen left Mark. It surprised both boys when she mentioned not only cheating, but with a woman, nonetheless. They didn't hate her for it (hell, they accepted Collins) but they had the right to be angry at her for the deceit and lying, not to mention the cheating part, too. Mark was devastated and weepy the first day, questioning and mopey the second, but now he was just irritated. Roger just wished his best friend would shut the hell up.

His eyes wandered to the machine in the corner. He knew the rules of what happened when someone moved in or out. But this time, it meant something different. From day one, it was him and Maureen. No matter who else there was, it was the two of them. Now she was gone. It didn't feel right, but it had to be done.

"We should probably record a new message," Roger said.

Mark stopped ranting. "What?"

"On the answering machine. You know, since it's just the two of us now."

Mark scoffed. "Can we cuss out Maureen in it?"

"No, it's gonna stay the same."

"Why? I thought it was her thing."

"No, it was both of our thing, and that's how it's gonna be, okay?"

Mark was taken aback, but he obliged. The last thing he needed was to fight with the one person he had left. The two boys sat next to the machine and Roger pressed the recording button.

"_Speeeeaaaak_!"

* * *

Mark stared at the machine. It was early December. Angel's birthday, actually, according to Mimi, who was celebrating with him at the rehab center with two cupcakes from the cafeteria and a candle from her apartment. Roger had been gone for over one month now. But the message was still the same. What was keeping him from changing it? He was here, alone. No one else lived with him. Was it Maureen, who would lose her mind if she found out. Or perhaps it was the pleasant feeling of pretending Roger was with him when he screened a call and heard Roger's voice. He didn't know.

"What the hell," he muttered to himself. Mark walked over to the machine slowly, as one would approach a door in a horror movie. In his gut, he knew it was wrong. But at this point, who cared anymore, right?

His index finger was only inches from the button when there was a knock on the door. Mark jerked his hand back and answered the door. He expected Benny to be there, pestering him for the rent. However, he sees Roger, who was now a shade tanner and grinning. The two best friends hugged.

It looked like Mark wouldn't have to change the recording after all.

* * *

_**I feel like I should explain the beginning. I feel like in the RENT universe that when Mark was at Brown for his two short years with Benny and Collins unknown to them yet, Maureen and Roger had already moved into the loft. If you think about it, it kind of makes sense. Well, it does to me, anyway.**_


End file.
